


Could've Been Unstoppable

by onionblossomhorseradish



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: F/F, but there isnt enough lesbeans in the world and im determined to turn everything gay, this is some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:16:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6508162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onionblossomhorseradish/pseuds/onionblossomhorseradish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellwether regrets ever letting herself have a soft spot for that rabbit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Could've Been Unstoppable

**Author's Note:**

> my brother made me write this.

The first time Dawn saw Judy, she'd been standing aside, waiting nervously for the ceremony to start. She was tapping her foot, it must've been a nervous tic, she hardly seemed to notice she was doing it, and glancing around. She hadn't noticed the assistant mayor, looking too flustered by the crowd of beurocrats preparing to unveil their new recruit. But Dawn had watched her, watched as she puffed up her chest and fixed her fur perfect, and huffed a sigh of relief as her eyes landed on her family, filtering into the crowd. Dawn still remembers how her eyes lit up, how she smiled and seemed to relax into a different person, confident, excited, moments away from all of her dreams coming true. Dawn had envied her, but there was something more. Something in the way she smiled that made Dawn's heart skip a beat.

And then Lionheart had called her over to help him out, twitching his tail in annoyance as she'd faltered for a moment, and whatever it was she had been thinking of dissipated, replaced by Lionheart's demands.

 

The next time Dawn had seen Judy, she'd heard the good news: Judy was on a case. It filled Dawn with a pride. Her project was working. Judy was going places. The little guys were winning.

For a moment, she allowed herself to daydream, as she texted Lionheart the good news, of the future. Her mind, so excitable, so _stupid_ , had raced with thoughts of her and Judy, a powerful force against the enemy. They could change the world, she thought. Dawn would be changing the world either way, of course, but Judy could be a strong ally.

She'd left, foolishly hopeful. Giddy with the thought that this could work: that her plan could work, that prey could work, that Judy and her could work.

 

When Judy had come to Dawn for help, she'd finally realized her feelings for the rabbit. Judy had knelt to pick up the papers Lionheart had knocked over, and smiled when she met Dawn's eye, and Dawn's heart skipped two beats this time. And she thought, again, maybe this could work. Maybe they could make this work. Maybe Judy felt the same way.

She should've seen it coming, though. Judy and that stupid fox. Her determination to find the truth, to know the truth, to tell the truth.

But Dawn had still hoped.

 

And she'd hoped even more when Judy had arrested Lionheart. She had to stop herself from wrapping Judy up in a hug, only resisting the urge because she knew it wouldn't look right, to be so excited over her boss and mayor being arrested. But she _was_ , she _was_ excited. Everything was coming together, the little pieces falling slowly into place, and Judy was at the center, inadvertently putting Dawn's plan into action. It was so easy to think that this was just the start of things. It was so easy to think, once Dawn took over, once the world was finally united against predators, that her and Judy could keep this up. They would be unstoppable together: a determined, levelheaded cop, and the trusted mayor of the town. Who would question what they said? Who would stop them from telling their citizens what to do? Who would challenge their leadership?

Dawn wished she'd had the foresight to see that it would've been Judy to do that. Of course it would've been. But she trudged steadily onward, letting herself fall further and further for the rabbit. And when Judy told the world that it was genetics, that predators would always be savages, Dawn smiled. They _could_ make this work. The people already trusted the both of them: put them together, coordinate their efforts and their warnings to the public, and they could control anything and everything they wanted to.

And when Nick stormed off, Dawn watched, hope swelling in her chest. With him gone, maybe Judy could finally commit to this plan. Maybe Nick was the last piece keeping her from seeing the truth.

 

And then Judy had quit.

 

They'd been doing so well, doing so much, and then Judy had gotten all moral about what she was 'doing' to Zootopia. How didn't she see? She wasn't destroying the world, she was uniting it.

But she couldn't talk Judy out of it. And she had other things to deal with now. There wasn't time to think about Judy, she wouldn't allow herself that weakness again. Couldn't allow herself it.

 

And things were going well. She forgot about Judy. She focused on her plan, stopped herself from paying attention to or caring about anything else.

 

And then Judy came back.

 

And she came back with Nick, and she discovered everything, and she wanted to ruin it all.

 

And Dawn, stupid as she was, still had some scrap of hope in her that she could talk to Judy, get her to see the truth. She still wished that they could be a team, that they could take over the world together and be content in each other and in what they'd made. So she didn't just kill Judy like she should've. No, she had to dart that stupid fox and kill time talking, waiting for the moment that Judy begged her for help, threw a paw up and agreed to join Dawn. But it never happened.

 

She was so full of fire at Judy for that, for the longest time. She was mad at her even before that, yes, but she'd still had hope. But after that day, it was nothing but anger. So much that she didn't notice she still cared for Judy, until the anger started to fade and her heart was filled instead with regret and loneliness. She'd ruined her chance with Judy in the hopes that she could make her plan work, and she'd ruined her plan in the hopes that she could make her and Judy work. And now she had nothing.

 

Dawn sighed, crumpling up her latest attempt at a letter. She'd tried to write it all out, tried to formulate something approaching an apology to Judy. And the first time, it was almost right, but not quite. And she rewrote it, and then she did again, and again, and again, until she found herself too frustrated to continue. Nothing could fix this. Nothing could fix them, if there was even a them in the first place.

 

Oh, if she could talk to her past self. So confident, so _foolish_. She wished she could've warned herself. Or at least seen that she had a choice, a choice between power or love. Maybe she still would've chosen power. But at least she would've had that, at least.

 

But no, she had to get greedy.

 

Dawn sighed.

 

The saddest part was that it wasn't her failure or her imprisonment that she regretted the most, that stung the most. It was the fact that out there, somewhere, Judy Hopps was happy, and successful. And Dawn Bellwether was still here, a walking mistake, and _alone_.

 

Dawn hoped Judy didn't hate her. But she knew she'd never have the guts to find out. She didn't have the heart to see Judy look at her with the disgust that she must feel towards Dawn.

 

The disgust she _deserves_ to feel.

 

Dawn sighed.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe Judy could forgive her. If she could just word it right. If she could just say the right things and put this all behind them.

Dawn started to write, again.

If she could just make Judy _see_.

 


End file.
